End Verse Redeux
by InzanityFirez
Summary: The Colt failed, Lucifer won, and all who opposed him were dead. Or at least, they were supposed to be. Which doesn't explain why Dean is alive again, and more youthful than when he left. But with Castiel by his side, this might just be a second chance.


**I read some End!Verse fiction and just had to contribute. The idea came to me at work today, so I'm gonna roll with it. Sam!Lucifer will be in it eventually, and a Lucifer-less Sam, whoot! Not sure who else will make a cameo. But I do think DeanxCas might just have a happy ending this time around, so...enjoy! P.S...if it seems Dean's more potty-mouthed than usual, I think it better reflects how much darker/gruffer/harsher/disillusioned/jaded he's had to become. Plus, it's more like his thoughts and such anyway, initially, for the most part. XD It's a weird writing style for me though, Dean's just being very blunt and uncooperative with me right now. But, I suppose that makes sense, given his current state. **

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The first that Dean noticed about being dead [again] was that the air hadn't improved; it still smelled acrid and felt thick. Courtesy no doubt of the blood and flesh that littered the ruins of the world. The scent was strange to him, because wasn't Heaven supposed to be full of the good memories? Not the crappy, day-to-day garbage that had become his life post-Sam-saying-yes-to-Lucifer. Then again, Dean had tossed Heaven out the window sometime in between reintroducing himself to his hard-won skills as a torturer and the countless Croats he'd slaughtered, all for the end-game that never came true. Dean had failed to save the people, he'd failed to save Cas, he'd failed to save himself, and he'd sure as Hell failed to save his brother, and he'd tossed his conscience out the window in the process. He could understand that, naturally, but that would mean that he would be in Hell and Dean knew firsthand that this was not Hell either. If it were Hell, he'd be being ripped to pieces while some demonic piece of shit got his rocks off.

So then, where the Hell was he?

Dean forced his eyes to open and was greeted by the sight of an ironically pleasant looking sky, a sky that seemed mocking. It just figured. The whole world had gone to ash but up above, where the dicks-with-wings were probably looking down and laughing their feathery asses off, was pristine and calm.

_Okay...big, shitty blue sky, not Hell then..._ Dean sat up as he started to review a mental checklist of what might have happened when he died-and he knew he had-because Lucifer had snapped his neck like a friggin' twig. He knew, which made the sight before him all the more confusing.

Buildings, a few bodies, charred grass, the acrid scent in the air, everything was familiar, everything was as it had been when he'd...died. But that was impossible, unless he really was in Hell and it was some kind of mental trick. "Jokes over, ya black-eyed-" Dean cut off at the sound of his own voice, not his gruff tones at all but youthful and light, and his gaze jerked downwards towards his body where small hands and a small form, with clothes to match, greeted him. The body of a _child_.

Oh, yes. This had to be Hell.

...

Dean wasn't sure how much time had passed since he'd woken up, but in that time he'd discovered two things: he was about seven years old, give or take, and he had no clue about what was going on. Dean hadn't ruled out the possibility of Hell, because nothing else really made sense to him. There wasn't anyone left to bring him back, and if they had, they wouldn't have made him a kid and they wouldn't have left him alone on the edge of Croat-hotspot territory. He'd already started the trek away from that place, and back towards Camp Chitaqua if only because he had no idea where else to go. But it didn't matter, did it? Because whether it was Hell or he was alive somehow, every one else was dead thanks to him. Dean had failed, and his failure had screwed the rest of the world along with it. Story of his life. And even if he went after Lucifer again, there was nothing he could do that he hadn't tried. The Colt had failed, and so had he.

That being the case, he had nothing left to lose and nowhere else to go, so back to camp it was. The thought to just try offing himself crossed his mind, because then he'd see for sure if this was all illusion or not, but he wasn't going to risk it on an off-chance. No, he'd head for camp and see if he couldn't make some sense of his situation.

...

By the time that Dean reached camp on-foot, he was tired, hungry, and night had fallen. He'd been reminded all-too quickly that a child's body had far greater limitations than an adult one, and he had several new scrapes and bruises to prove it. But he was distracted from his pains if only for a moment by the sight of the camp with it's dim, remaining lights and the still, utter silence. The stillness of the camp was more unnerving and disheartening than the ruined city had been. He knew about that ruination, it was nothing new, but this was...the end. There was literally nothing left, it was a hollow, make-shift town. Whatever survivors might have been left had clearly gone: without Dean to lead them and with their best fighters dead, they had been sitting ducks anyway.

Dean wearily headed for his cabin. There would be some rations in there he could eat, and he could get some rest. Maybe by the time he woke up, demonic dickheads playing with him [or whatever the case was] would be over and done with and he could get on with being dead.

The sudden sound of shattered glass just as he'd reached the door startled him, however, and instinct kicked in as he braced himself. It was possible that a Croat had gotten itself shut in, and he had no weapon to fight the damn thing with. Well, fine, it'd solve the problem of what he was going to do. All the same, he was going to make a dash for the gun he kept hidden under his pillow, even in the child's body he was confident in his ability to aim and shoot.

Dean threw open the door and made a dash for his bed, and was unprepared for the sudden collision in the darkness with something on the floor. He slammed onto the floor and cursed at the sharp, sudden burst of pain through his body. "Son of a..." he gritted out as he pushed himself up and tumbled towards his bed and the salvation of his gun. There was either a dead body or a Croat on the floor, what else would it be? But his movements were stopped by the sound of a hollow, familiar laugh followed by a bit of incoherent mumbling and a moan.

Dean peered into the darkness as he tried to make out the shape before him. "...Cas?"

There was a moment of silence before he could make out a vague silhouette rising upwards as the form from the floor stood. He tensed and bumped his back against the table beside bed. But before he could make a pass at the gun beneath his pillow, light flickered on as the form flipped a switch.

Green eyes met a hazy blue as the unshaven, disheveled, and dopey-eyed Castiel stared down at Dean with his head tilted in a way that was oddly reminiscent of the old Cas. But the similarity was gone the moment he opened his mouth and spoke in the slanted, drawling way that accompanied his heavy drug and alcohol use.

"It's a little boy." Castiel giggled as he sagged against the wall and regarded Dean with a lopsided smile. "I haven't seen one of you in a long time. Nobody has children anymore, didn't you know that?" he giggled again, like he'd said something very funny.

Dean took a moment to regard the other. He'd gotten used to the deranged hippie look on the other, but it was more than that. Castiel's eyes seemed seemed to have sunken a bit; he looked hollow, and tired, and moreover that shred of sardonic sanity that had accompanied Castiel seemed lost. Dean had seen him like that before, when he'd gotten his hands on some drugs of the more intense and tripped out variety, and Dean had quickly put a stop to that. Apparently he'd taken advantage of the absence of...anyone else and found himself some. Which begged yet another question. How was Castiel alive?

"Are we alive?" he found himself asking, because maybe the crazed-out ex-angel would have some idea of what was going on. But that was apparently too much to hope for, since Castiel giggled again.

"Alive...alive...well, yes, we are regrettably very much alive. You because you're not dead yet, and me because I'm not angel enough to _do anything_, but angel enough not to die from mortal wounds. It's beautiful irony, really." Castiel chuckled as he tilted his face towards the wall before it ended in a sort of whimpering moan and he sunk to the floor and clutched his stomach. His face pinched like he might vomit before he closed his eyes and started humming to himself.

Once upon a time, Dean would have been infuriated by the angel's actions, he'd have shouted at him, grabbed him and _told him_ that he was _an angel, damnit_, and Castiel would have been morose, and guilty, and ceased. Some time after that, Dean would have been agitated and firm and reminded Castiel that _they had a job to do, and Dean needed him stable_. And Castiel would have smiled wryly, and made some smart-ass comment about _of course, since his Fearless Leader __**needed**__ him_, and Castiel would have sobered up just enough not to be a complete space-case. Later on, Dean would been annoyed and said nothing, because Castiel was going to do as he pleased and long as Castiel could keep his eggs in one basket long enough to do what he had to do, then so be it.

And now, Dean wasn't sure how to respond. Castiel had clearly hit rock-bottom, [if he hadn't hit already], and Dean couldn't urge him to continue fighting, he couldn't say that there was still something to fight for because in the end; they'd lost. What would be the point in encouraging Castiel to rise again with no reason to stand? But if he was being honest, and he wasn't weighed down by the responsibility of the world on his shoulders, and he could pretend for a minute that he hadn't traded what was left of his heart for what he'd needed to 'survive'...then he could admit that the sight of the once proud, 'nerdy' angel in such a state could still produce pain within him. Somewhere, deep down.

So Dean took a few steps forward until he was right in front of Castiel, and he clenched a small fist around a handful of Castiel's shirt-collar as he tugged him forward a bit. The gesture would have been more effective were it not for his less-than-imposing form, but there wasn't much that he could do about that. "Hey! Snap out of it!" he barked, and Castiel's eyes opened to reveal an expression of hazy bewilderment.

"Why are you shouting...? I'm trying to sleep." Castiel complained as he tried to shrug himself free of Dean's grip, but the other kept a tight grip as he used his free hand to lightly smack the side of Castiel's face.

"Screw sleep. You've had enough. Wake the Hell up." Dean growled.

Castiel heaved a sigh as his eyes slid open and he regarded Dean with a frown. "What is it that you want...I don't have anything for you...if you want the food, take it." he mumbled as his eyes slid away, only to be jerked back as Dean forced Castiel's head to tilt back in his direction.

"Look at me, Cas! I'm Dean! I don't know how, I don't know why, but I'm here and apparently we aren't dead."

For a brief moment, Dean's words actually seemed to reach something lucid in Castiel because the former angel's blue-eyed gaze slid to Dean slowly and he stared at him as though seeing him for the first time. Castiel squinted a bit before he lifted a rough hand to Dean's face and brushed a thumb against his cheek gently.

"Huh..." The hand lowered before he let out another low giggle. "I know that particular soul, even like this...but how'd you get so small, Fearless Leader?"

Dean fought against rising annoyance despite himself, and against a bit of surprise that Castiel claimed to recognize his soul, but let it go for the moment. "You tell me. One minute Lucifer was snapping my neck, the next I'm like _this_."

Castiel's dreamy smile became a light frown at the mention of Lucifer snapping Dean's neck before blue eyes narrowed in on green again as Castiel studied him a moment. "Don't know." he finally announced as he yawned and smiled again. "Maybe you're just lucky?" he suggested with another giggle. And that finally ticked the annoyance level up high, because that little giggle was a sure sign that Castiel was all kinds of brain-dead at the moment and it just...it was _wrong_, damnit.

Dean used two hands to grab Castiel's collar then and he tried to force the other to focus on him. "This isn't a joke! The Colt didn't work! Who would bring us back if-"

Castiel's sudden grip on his wrists startled him, and he found himself tugged closer to the ex-angel who smelled of sweat and cheap liquor. Castiel's gaze bored into his own as Castiel smiled mirthlessly. " 'Us'? I don't get to die, so whoever brought you back, it has nothing to do with me being here. We failed, Fearless Leader. It's over. And as for me, if I'm going to be miserable I'm at least going to be high out of my mind when I am so." he announced as he released Dean and reached for his pocket and produced a bottle of pills.

Dean's eyes narrowed before he reached his hand out to snatch the bottle away from Castiel. "You're done, ya hear me? Whatever this is-" He found himself cut off for the second time as Castiel made a grab for the pills and Dean stumbled back as he held the pills in one hand behind his back. "Damnit! What the Hell's wrong with you? If this isn't Hell, and it sure as Hell ain't Heaven, then something brought me back! I don't know, maybe it was a fluke but maybe we got somethin' here."

Castiel paused long enough to cock his head and smile sardonically. "Something like we had with the Colt?"

"That was different. Cas, I was _dead_."

"You've been dead before." Castiel noted wryly as he began to fiddle with a small hole in the cabin wall.

Dean shook his head in frustration. "Would you stop being a dick for two friggin' minutes and think about it?" he took a step forward and jarred the pills that were still hidden behind him, and the _clink_ of the pills seemed to remind Castiel of his earlier goal. There was no warning this time as Dean found himself pinned under Castiel in an alarmingly inhuman time frame. Castiel ended up straddling Dean by the waist while he pinned Dean's wrists above his head with one hand and used his free hand to clamp his fingers around Dean's cheeks.

"Think about _what_, oh Fearless Leader?" Castiel's face was inches from Dean's.

Dean squirmed beneath Castiel's grasp, but in his present condition, there wasn't much he could do about it. "Cas, get offa me." he tried to use his best _don't-mess-with-me _voice, but the effect was rather ruined by his current age.

But Castiel continued on as if he hadn't heard and his grip on Dean's wrists tightened almost painfully. "Our last hope was the Colt, we gave everything, _everyone_, for it." he gave a hollow laugh. "And then you died, left-" the next word stilled before it passed his lips as he grew silent a moment and then focused his eyes on Dean's as he started anew. "And now, because you came back 'like _this_'," he mocked Dean's earlier phrase, "You want me to think...what? That there's hope? That these-" he shook Dean's wrists, "-small hands will make a difference when an army could not? I gave you my last hope, and it died with you." he murmured as he bent his head down to touch his forehead to Dean's lightly for a brief moment. "It's over." he said, almost gently before he pulled away, and took the pill bottle with him. Castiel rose and headed for the bed, Dean's bed, and he plopped down on it as he began to unscrew the top of the bottle.

Dean's jaw clenched as he rose and watched the other. "So that's it? You're out?"

"I'm out." Castiel drawled as he flicked the top off and popped a couple of pills into his hand. "Out. Done. Finished. Completed."

Dean stared at the other man a moment before strode forward and Castiel paused long enough to watch Dean curiously as he moved within range. But Dean didn't touch Castiel, he merely jerked a hand under the pillow to the loaded gun beneath and deposited it into the back of his pants. The weight of it was worse than he'd recalled, but he could handle it. Dean began the quick work of packing up a backpack with supplies.

"Going somewhere, Fearless Leader?" Castiel seemed amused again as he curled up a bit.

Dean shot Castiel a cool glance. "I'm gonna figure out what's going on here. You wanna sit here and play pity-party, have a blast. You're useless like this anyway." he muttered.

Castiel's smile didn't leave his lips, but something flickered in his eyes a moment that Dean couldn't read. Whatever it might have been, Castiel tilted his head and the look was gone. "Is it a good idea to go out like that?" he mused.

"What do you care?" Dean spat back as he zipped up his backpack. But despite himself, he paused to regard Castiel. "I want you to come with me."

Castiel burst out laughing, a choked, sad sound as he fixed his eyes on Dean and smiled broadly. "You call me useless in one instant and ask for me to join you in the other...what would you want me for?" he drawled.

Dean could have said anything, but instead he shook his head. "Y'know what, forget it."

"Good luck, oh little Fearless Leader." Castiel giggled again, and Dean didn't bother with it any further as he gave Castiel one last frown and then headed for the door. But not before he paused to say one last thing.

"...Stay out of trouble, Cas." Dean muttered the words, words he'd spoken more than once since Castiel's descent into humanity, although not recently. They had been fond but firm at that time as he'd left Cas [who was eventually laid-up with a broken-leg for six months] to start taking the reins. But things changed;' they had changed, and now it had come to this. So Dean headed out the door and didn't argue further. Dean couldn't force Castiel to stop, and really, he didn't have much right to tell him 'no' after what he'd done. But he was going to figure out what happened, or die trying, because it wasn't like he had any other options left to him.

...

The moment that Dean left, blue eyes trailed to the door and the empty space Dean no longer occupied before he brought the pills to his lips. If he could just forget, if he could only do that even for a moment...

Blue eyes shot upwards suddenly and narrowed as Castiel tilted his head as though listening to something.

...

Dean didn't know where quite to begin, and in fact, he would probably end up sleeping in another cabin to wait out nightfall. And, at the moment, he was more angry than ready to start a hunt for a nameless someone-or-other. Moreover, past that anger was the logic that he was in trouble. He couldn't _hunt_ like this, Hell, he'd be just lucky to shoot a Croat as he was. But he had to try because giving up now would make it that much worse, than much more in vain and a waste of their lives and time. Dean wasn't going to allow that.

But really, what was he fighting for?

The world was in ruins, Cas was...whatever the Hell he was, everyone else he gave a damn about was dead, and Sam...he'd said yes. They'd screwed the pooch. So what...did that leave him to fight for?

A rustling beside him caused him to aim his gun quickly, and the sight of a Croat darting out of the bush caused said gun to fire off several rounds. He winced at the mild recoil, but he was satisfied when the Croat dropped. Probably the thing had followed him from the hot spot, seeing as how as it was, he'd been surprised not to have seen any to begin with.

What he was not expecting was the hard fist to the face he got a few seconds later that sent him sprawling to the ground. He cursed as his gun flew from his hands and landed a few feet away. Dean pulled himself to his knees as he made a lunge for it just as the Croat hauled him up by the shirt. He was going to die again, damnit, and there was no guarantees that he'd get a second second chance.

Dean got his second surprise in a span of a few moments as the sound of a gun being fired exploded into the air and he found himself dropped onto his behind as the Croat's body jerked and then fell. His head whipped around to locate the source, and his surprise only intensified as he saw Castiel holding a gun with mildly trembling hands. "...Cas?"

Castiel smiled wryly. "Perhaps I have some use left in me after all, eh, Fearless Leader?"

Dean swallowed hard as he stumbled to his feet and then made his way over to Castiel. Now that they were both standing, he got a good sense of just how short he'd gotten and having to crane his head to look up at the other was more than a little annoying. "I thought you were done." he said lowly.

Castiel stared down at Dean, but there was more lucidity in his eyes than he'd seen since his return and he took that to mean that for some reason, Castiel hadn't taken any more of his pills. "I thought you were dead." he replied quietly before he crouched down in front of Dean to speak to him at eye-level. "I was resigned to spend my eternity alone." he added almost as an afterthought.

Dean was caught a bit off guard by the words and behavior, and something clicked in his head. Earlier Castiel had mentioned him leaving and he'd started to say something else...left...'me'? "Holy shit..." he breathed as realization struck him. Castiel's morose behavior, his attitude...more than Dean failing, had he maybe taken Dean's death...personally?

Dean had sent Castiel on a suicide mission and then died, he'd thought that they would all die if they failed, he hadn't considered that there might be something _angel_ enough left in Castiel to keep him alive. He'd left him to Hell on earth alone, however unintentionally. And that realization was enough to stir a few feelings in his 'long-dead' heart as his gaze softened a bit.

Castiel laughed and he shot Dean a slanted glance as he grinned. More lucid he was, but he was far from sobered up and there would be withdrawals from the medicine regardless, assuming that Dean could convince the other not to take any more. "Think of something funny, Fearless Leader?"

Dean hated being called that. Castiel had stopped calling him Dean years ago, probably around the time that the old Castiel had died and he'd seen the old Dean do the same. Dean the righteous hunter had been replaced by a hard-ass ready to sacrifice whoever he had to in order to get his victory and Castiel the angel had been replaced by a drug-addicted hippie. In a way, it was a slap in the face and a reminder all at once. But he'd stopped arguing the point, he'd only barely done so to begin with, it hardly seemed to matter then.

"You're not useless, Cas. Shouldn'a said that. Thanks for...coming back." Dean muttered.

Castiel let out a bark of laughter. "Yes...I was always useful when you needed something, Dean...and the next time I decide not to follow your commands, I will be useless again." he chuckled and then coughed as he clutched his chest a moment. Dean didn't think much of it until Castiel's expression clenched with pain and he sagged a bit.

"Cas? Cas!" Dean placed small hands on the ex-angel's shoulders and Castiel slowly moved his hand from his chest to smile broadly at Dean.

"Mortality is a bitch, Fearless Leader, but never fear. I'll live." Castiel chuckled as though he found his own words quite funny. Dean frowned and Castiel fixed his gaze on Dean suddenly. "I warned you not to go out like this." there was something faintly taunting about his tone.

Dean lowered his hands and glared faintly in reply. "Yeah, well, like I said. I'm not gonna roll over and play dead. Something's up, and I'm gonna find out what."

Castiel pursed his lips a moment before he placed a hand on Dean's head. His glare lessened when he felt the way that Castiel trembled lightly. Rough fingers ran through his hair as Castiel murmured. "Well, then, I suppose that you'll need someone who isn't _entirely _useless." he grinned crookedly. But Dean got the sense now that his words had hurt the other, actually.

Dean let Castiel's hand remain on his head as he brought his own small hand up to hold Castiel's forearm lightly. "You're not useless. That was a stupid thing to say."

Castiel shrugged, and whether in acknowledgement or in a gesture of indifference, he wasn't sure. And then his smile returned as he lowered his hand and pulled away. "Well! Rather than spend our night out here," he giggled at a joke that Dean clearly was missing, "Maybe we should go back to the cabin and wait till morning to start our little party?"

Dean nodded his agreement but he couldn't help but ask. "Thought you were done with everything. What changed your mind?"

Castiel, who had turned away to start walking, stopped a moment before he said without turning around, and then kept walking. "You."

Dean's eyes widened slightly and he opened his mouth to reply but couldn't find the words. In the end, he made his way after Castiel silently as he reviewed all that had happened that day and pondered over the way his heart did a funny twist in his chest at that one little word.

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**BWAH! I fell asleep writing this last night and have been rushing to finish before work this morning. Hope it came out well! I'm a Destiel fan, but I haven't decided with certainty if it's going to end up more brotherly or they'll be lovers. I feel like the End!Verse Dean and Cas kind of lean towards that though, they're all they've got. XD We'll see. First Dean has to grow up again, which, I could probably do this story with Dean regular-aged as well...but his current side is going to make it easier for them to re-bond now that Dean will have to be relying on Cas and Dean is all adorable...XD We'll see what Sam has to say eventually. Leave me verbal hugs and such! They bring joy to my soul. XD Enjoy! -Witchy~**


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